On Balance
by impossigirl
Summary: An alternative take of "Flatline" where Clara is incapable of filling the Doctor's shoes. "That's how you think, isn't it?" Clara replied defensively. The two of them survived, Clara and the Doctor. Bristol remained largely unscathed and the world still stood beneath their feet. How could she afford to think any differently?


Clara pushed her knees up to her chest as the train careened on its rails.

"This is it."

Her mouth was dry as she spoke, her trembling lips trying to make such a hopeless statement sound positive even though she was alone. Typical Clara.

She pressed her head against the window, her wide eyes following the group she fought to survive as they ravaged their way toward the speeding train. They were just puppets, now. Rigsby still wore the same half-smile. The innocent grin that shone on his face when Clara knew she had gained his full trust. She could tell that he wasn't used to positive reinforcement, of someone giving him hope.

_People with hope tend to run faster._

Fenton's was the next number the creatures had called up next. The man begged, he bargained for his life, using Rigby and Clara and the rest of the Community Payback crew as offerings. Delirious, he sunk his dirtied hands into Clara's shoulders, forcing her to walk in front of the shadows, near the walls.

"I promise we'll get out of this, just let me go. Look, I'll still walk in front for you if you let me go."  
She sounded so sure of herself. Her voice was soft and it was the only tangible thing Fenton could hold onto. Her softness.

She never abandoned that softness, not even when Fenton's ankles buckled underneath him as his foot caught between the train tracks a few moments later. His screams still rang in her ears.

"I'm sorry," Clara cut off the man and turned his heel toward the other side of the tunnels, careful to ignore the fact the creatures were still a considerable distance behind them. "There's no time." The words were quick to interrupt his screaming, yet fell from her mouth as if her apologies were eulogizing the wicked, sobbing old man.

_Congratulations, lying is an important survival skill._

Clara tore out the gadgetry in her ear and pocketed the device. She didn't know why. Maybe she couldn't accept that the soft gasps for air through static waves were the last goodbyes the Doctor had to offer her. Maybe she didn't want the Doctor to hear her screams when the creatures finally took hold of her.

"I'm so sorry," The Doctor said in choking rasps when the TARDIS first began to shut down. His apologies, his eulogies were sincere. "I don't know if you'll ever hear this, Clara. I should have never left you alone. I'm so sorry."

A row of twisted, spineless creatures now grounded themselves in front of the tracks, a red glow emanating from their fingertips. The fiery aura seeped through the front of the train and blinded Clara. She dug her nails into the remnants of the TARDIS until they cracked against the stone.

"Clara."

The Doctor gently grabbed her shoulders to shake her awake, her collarbone still raw from where Fenton took her hostage.

"You did it," she breathed into his coat as she came around. She planted a palm on the TARDIS floor to steady her shaking body.

"You recharged the TARDIS. Used their power against them." His voice sounded hollow as he placed her free hand into his own.

"On balance, not too bad."  
The words slipped out of her mouth, but it was the first honest sentiment she had said for hours.

"Balance?" The Doctor dropped her hand and stood up from the floor of the TARDIS.

"That's how you think, isn't it?" Clara replied defensively. The two of them survived, Clara and the Doctor. Bristol remained largely unscathed and the world still stood beneath their feet. How could she afford to think any differently?

The Doctor folded his arms and dug his back into the console. The pain of the statement reflected in his eyes.

"I was you today, Doctor," she continued. "I had to be."

"And not an ounce of conscience to be seen. An exceptional job."

He keyed in some coordinates into the monitor, the Doctor's dark eyes never leaving Clara's gaze. She knew where they were going. The only coordinates she knew he had memorized but would soon try to forget. The coordinates that brought him to her.

_You can't really tell if something's an addiction till you try and give it up. Let me know how it goes._


End file.
